


Alius Arena

by LeTempest



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Angst, send help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 16:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeTempest/pseuds/LeTempest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They spill Roman blood in a rough hewn arena to honor the memory of Crixus, but they all fight for different reasons that day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alius Arena

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feels about last nights episode. So here is a little unabated snippet of them.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Spartacus or the characters

When Spartacus takes up the sword, he can no longer remember all the people he is fighting for. Some faces stand out among them, ones he can still place name too. He fights for his father and brothers and friends, the men he’d known since childhood, the Thracians betrayed by Glaber. He fights for Varro, for the free man who made himself a slave, for the one man in the world who called him friend when no other would. Sura’s memory is strongest, the love for her still fierce in his breast.  He knows the truth in her words now. He has loved others, yes, but not as he loved her. He fights for Mira, the woman who loved him, who fought beside him, fought with him, despite the fact that he could not return the depth of her feelings. He fights for the girl who lost all innocence at Roman hands, but who found strength again in the holding of a knife, or the stringing of an arrow. He fights for Pietros, who’s heart was kind enough to spare mercy on beaten man in the form of soft words, of bread and water. He fights for a boy with a heavy heart, broken too many times and in too full a measure to bear it’s weight any longer. He fights for Aurelia, so small and gentle, but so terribly fierce when the time came. And he fights for a man whom he once was, a life lost. He fights for a thousand faces who’s names he can not remember.

             When Gannicus fights he fights for Oenomaus. He fights for Melitta. For all those who’s deaths were the result of his carelessness. He fights to answer the call. He fights to be happy, because he knows there will be little of it in the coming days. He fights because the arena is the only place he has ever felt at home.

            When Saxa fights, it is for the memory of the girl she was, of the child she never had the chance to be. A people at war, a father who had wanted a son but gotten her instead. Rome had been a threat even before they took her from her home. She fights for the look of fear on her mother’s face when the looming cloud of Rome was mentioned. She fights for the lovers who bleed on the field of battle. She fights for her brothers, for all the women has seen since her taking, women who are not like her. But most of all, she fights for herself. Because she has always been a free woman, in more ways than most. And she will die a free woman.

            When Nasir fights, it for Agron. He fights for the one who breathed life and love and hope into him. He fights for the gentle hands that kept old memories at bay. The same hands that turned hard and commanding as they trained. Hands that shaped, a voice that gave him a name again. A man who gave him purpose. Who gave him happiness, no matter how brief. His opponent is no Roman, it is grief and pain and silence. He held it with in him too long, a festering wound, because there is work to be done and it is his to do. He fights to remember the man his lover was, he fights to make that man proud. But it is not only Agron he fights for. He fights for Hadi, for the brother he can scarcely remember, torn from his arms by roman hands, cast into a fate still unknown. He fights for Chadara, crushed under slavery’s heel. He fights for Duro, the man he never knew, but who set all in motion. He fights for Tiberius, the boy he once was, so empty in his life but so afraid to fly beyond the walls of his villa.

            When Naevia fights, she fights for Crixus, and for Crixus alone. She has not the strength to call up older faces of friends. She has not the heart to remember the others. Diona, Pietros, Barca, Mira, Aurelia, Varro. So many faces, from a life now gone. She does not have it in her to fight for herself. She has fought so long, she is tired. But this, this she can do. This she will fight for. She will show this boy that Crixus was no slave, no insignificant thing. She will show them that he was a man, who bleed and felt and loved and was loved. That his memory would not die. She fights for Crixus, one last time. 


End file.
